The Love that Never Really Dies (Sasha and Sebastian)

The villagers were ecstatic. Once the wood was measured and paid for, the farmer dragged Ian to his house for

some potato and leek soup. As it was a local and expensive delicacy, it would only be prepared to honor significant

guests.

Ian had already firmly made up his mind to decline even before the offer was made.

At the farmer's approach, Ian shuddered in recollection of the incident with the Villagers' Committee and hastened

his departure.

"Hey, Small Fry, where are you going? My wife has prepared a feast to thank you for your help"

Ian almost yelled in exasperation as the farmer's soil-crusted hand reached out with surprising vigor to grab his

snow- white shirt.

Fortunately, a slender figure in the distance quickened her pace in Ian's direction at the commotion of his struggle.

"He has a delicate stomach, sir," the figure cried from afar. "But I'm sure he appreciates the offer"

As she spoke, she forcefully pried the farmer's fingers away from Ian's shirt.

Oh my, it's as black as soot!

Susan quickly extracted a clean handkerchief and cleaned Ian's shirt as best as she could.

The farmer must have gotten the hint as he no longer insisted on Ian's presence.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Even if you won't have lunch, at least come for my wife's pineapple tarts."

Pineapple tart?

Susan, who was feeling rather hungry, swallowed when she heard that.

"That sounds delicious, Ian. There's no harm in paying him a visit, is there? This village is known for its exceptionally

sweet pineapples. I heard this harvest has been their best one yet."

Turning to face the young man behind her, her perspiration- laced face was full of hope.

Ian raised his eyebrows.

Although he had little interest in morsels, he gave in to her pleas.

Susan was thrilled. Turning to nod excitedly at the farmer, she gratefully accepted. "We would love to come, sir.

Thank you."

"I am the one who should be grateful as Small Fry here has made us a lot of money. Come on, let's go!"

The farmer led the way back to his home.

They were in a primitive village. With houses made of mud bricks and worn tiles, the fragrance of fresh produce

wafted from both sides up the quaint village road.

The smell and sight seemed to lift Susan's spirits greatly.

Having felt uneasy after running away in a panic earlier that day, she did not dare think about how Ian's impression

of her would change after witnessing her erratic behavior.

What would he think of me? Would he see me as disrespectful, or would he think I have an ulterior motive against

him and cast me aside as a result? Oh, how I wish I knew what he was thinking.

It was only when Ian had agreed to keep her company and showed no displeasure in doing so that the knot in her

chest began to loosen. Unnoticed by her, a joyful feeling that put a spring in her step rose within her.

Soon, the scent of freshly baked tarts informed the pair that they had arrived at the farmer's house.

"It smells amazing!"

"That would be my wife's pastries," the farmer said proudly as he beckoned them in. "She got up especially early

today for this. We are the first to bake with our harvest this year, you know. Here, try some."

Susan went in with him with Ian following suit.

Although slightly crampy, the house's interior felt refreshingly cool due to the adobe used in its construction.

As it was not Ian's first time in a village, he could still adapt to the culture.

Just when he thought village life suited him, a furry thing shot between his feet when he crossed the threshold.

Thud!

Ian stumbled backward and collided with the door.

Startled by the noise, Susan hurried over with the pineapple tart in her hand completely forgotten.

"What happened?"

Ian was on the floor. His expression was contorted in a curious mixture of rage and humiliation as he stared at the

cause of his alarm crawling toward him.

Where did that thing come from?

"Are you afraid of dogs, Ian? Don't worry. This one's still a puppy! He probably wants to play more than he wants to

bite you."

Biting is the least of my concerns! Its sudden and disturbingly silent appearance is the problem here!

After sufficiently recovering from the shock, Ian wore an ugly scowl.

Before he could defend himself, the young woman squatting at his feet in concern just moments before picked up

the puppy that looked several days old at most and deliberately brought it close to his face.

"Woof! Look, puppy, you scared this nice young man. Apologize to him, you hear?"

For some reason, Susan's monologue amused her greatly.

Bent double with laughter with the puppy still in her arms, the farmer's family came hurrying out at the noise and

giggled upon being regaled of the incident.

Ian was so angry that his face had turned an ashen gray.

Meanwhile, Kurt finally returned with the clay pot to Avenport.

After a glance at it, Karl took him directly to Sebastian who was busy with work in his office.

"I have informed Mr. Jadeson at the military supply warehouse, Mr. Hayes. He assures us that he will deal with it

within the next two days."

"Very well." Sebastian studied the clay pot on the coffee table.

It was a curious artifact, indeed. Molded from clay of a most striking red, there was a circular motif painted on it.

"It's looks like a charm of sorts," said Kurt.

The young man, who had been standing with respectful silence in the corner ever since he came in, suddenly

interjected.q